


Melody, Unchained

by kaci3PO



Series: L-O-V-E verse [3]
Category: Fired Up! (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaci3PO/pseuds/kaci3PO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lazy Sunday in the life of Nick and Downey, three years after they first met at cheer camp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melody, Unchained

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same universe as Give Me an L-O-V-E and Am I Origami, but as per usual, can stand on its own. If you've ever wondered how things turned out for Nick and Downey after they headed off to college...well, here's my answer.

Nick likes Sundays. Sundays are the only day they both have off from school and work and it's their time to reconnect after the week pulls them apart. Between Downey's full-time job and full course load, Nick's part-time job and full-time student status, and everything else the world deems to throw at them, Mondays through Saturdays tend to have the effect of making it so that they spend most of their week crossing paths and texting each other when their bosses are looking away.

Nick doesn't actually need the job. His parents offered to pay his half of the rent on their one bedroom apartment—barely bigger than a studio, really—and they do. They even offered to pay Downey's half when they realized Downey's family couldn't help him out the same way. But Downey politely turned them down, preferring to earn things himself. So when he got a full-time job on top of school, Nick realized he was going to be spending a lot of time alone at the apartment if he didn't do the same, so he got a job to preemptively stave off the boredom. It's nice to have a savings account at his age, anyway. Maybe one day, it'll be a down payment on their house.

Their weeks are hectic in their choreography—get Downey to X class and Nick to Y job and don't be late because boss or teacher Z will get mad. It's like a logistical problem and Nick isn't a chess-playing sort of guy. So Sundays are his favorite because Sundays don't have to be anything. Oh, sure, they have a ritual for them, but it's small things that they both _want_ , not things that they have to do.

It starts like this: Downey crawls into bed late Saturday night after getting off the evening shift at his job. He tosses and turns until Nick rubs his back soothingly and calms him down, then he drifts off to sleep. Nick's the first one awake the next morning and he makes the coffee, waking Downey only after he's had a good nine hours of sleep—at least—by the wafting smell of freshly brewed coffee.

After that, Downey reads the paper—a real newspaper that leaves ink smudges on Downey's fingers that will end up on Nick's skin later—while Nick does boring shit like balance their checkbooks for the week. It's not necessarily fun, but it's relaxing and Nick likes getting the responsible shit out of the way first thing so he can spend the entire afternoon doing what comes next.

See, after that, there's no set ritual. There's no outline of steps, no certainty for what has to happen next. It just happens and Nick loves that, loves navigating through the day with Downey at his side.

This particular morning, Nick finishes the checkbooks early and watches Downey finish reading the paper. Sometimes he reads interesting articles out loud so Nick can hear, too, and on those days, Nick will lie back on the soft, white pillows and close his eyes, just listening to the sound of his lover's voice. But today, Downey has stayed silent and when he puts the paper aside, he laughs softly, raising one eyebrow.

"I'm not that fascinating," he murmurs, even though Nick thinks that's a bald-faced lie.

"I was looking at your hair."

Downey tugs awkwardly at one long strand of his hair. "What about it?"

"I don't know. You slept on it wrong last night and it's all tangled. You look like a muppet."

Downey snorts and releases his hair. "A muppet, huh?"

"Yeah. Give me your hairbrush. I can't have sex with a Fraggle Rock reject."

"Still with the delusion that Fraggle Rock was better," Downey murmurs with amusement, but Nick knows he won that argument a long time ago.

"Just give me your hairbrush," Nick repeats, and Downey sighs before padding across the room to the adjoining bathroom and returning with the brush moments later. His feet are cold next to Nick's as he slips back under the blankets and Nick rubs them through the blanket idly to warm them back up.

He guides Downey back to him until he's seated between Nick's spread legs. He's still cold from when he got out of bed and Nick pulls him as close as he can while still being able to brush his hair.

"My hair really bother you that much?" Downey asks as Nick begins to brush.

Nick shrugs. "I love your hair. If it's gonna be all messed up, I'd just rather it was 'cause of me, that's all."

Downey laughs. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's no fun if it's just 'cause you slept on it wrong."

"You have no idea how relaxing this is," Downey sighs. "God, I hate this week."

Nick brushes a tangle out of Downey's hair carefully, going slow to make sure it doesn't hurt. When it's taken care of, he pulls back the curtain of Downey's hair and kisses his neck softly.

"Tell me."

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying to have empathy. I could go back to mentally humming all the words to 'We Are the Champions,' though. It'd be better if you just told me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me—"

Downey laughs. "Stop. Okay, I'll talk."

"What happened?"

Downey shrugs. "Big project due this week. It's just a lot of work and I'm pretty important to it. It's fine. Just between that and midterms coming up, it's a lot."

Nick uses the hand not brushing Downey's hair to rub his shoulders—firm, soothing pressure on the hard muscle of his back.

"Wish you'd let me help you."

"You do help," Downey promises. "You're helping right now."

Nick sets down the brush and runs his fingers through Downey's soft, tangle-free hair. Downey sighs and lifts his hands to inspect his ink-stained fingers from reading the paper.

"Should've washed my hands earlier," he murmurs.

"Nah. I like 'em like that."

"You just like seeing the ink all over you."

"Yeah," Nick agrees. "I like it when I can see where you touched me."

Downey takes one of Nick's hands in his and traces lazy patters on the back, leaving smudged trails of ink behind. "I'm tired, Nick," he sighs.

"I know."

Nick shifts until they're on their sides and Nick is the big spoon. Downey isn't very cold anymore, but Nick likes holding him, anyway. He curls himself around Downey's body and pets his hair. "You want a blowjob?"

Downey laughs. "If you're offering, I'm not going to say, 'No,' but I'm not asking."

"Maybe I am. I miss sucking you during the week."

Downey tilts his head back enough that Nick can register his raised eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Mhm. Miss the way you taste. The way you feel."

Downey snorts. "Yeah, right."

"No, I do. I love sucking your cock."

Downey rolls over in his arms and sighs. "I'm fine, Nick. I don't need you lying about—"

"I don't lie about sucking cock," Nick murmurs. "On your back, Downey."

Downey obeys, but rolls his eyes. "I don't want a pity blowjob."

"Not pity," Nick promises. "Just miss your dick. I'm too selfish to give you a pity blowjob."

"That's true," Downey admits. His fingers stroke over Nick's cheek right where his cock will push it out and Nick groans at the thought of having a proverbial 'X marks the spot' on his face for Downey's cock from the ink.

Downey sleeps in sweatpants and it's easy to tug them down, to lick a path from the inside of Downey's thigh up to his belly button and then back down to his cock.

"Missed you this week," Downey sighs when Nick curls his tongue around him. "Missed this. Missed talking to you."

Nick squeezes his thigh lightly to let him know that he agrees and sucks him in deep, working his tongue along the vein. Downey moans softly and cards his fingers through Nick's hair.

"Love your mouth," he murmurs. "Love the way you look when you suck me."

Nick nods and licks lower, sucking each of Downey's balls into his mouth before returning to his cock.

"So fucking gorgeous," Downey sighs.

"You keep talking to me like that and I'm gonna give up the blowjob and just fuck you so I can talk back."

Downey chuckles, low and dirty. "That could be fun."

"Don't tempt me."

Downey curls one leg around Nick's shoulders and raises an eyebrow suggestively.

"Tempting enough, or do I actually have to beg?"

"Considering that you've had a hard week, I won't make you," Nick answers. "But you owe me a good, long, music-to-my-ears begging session."

Downey smiles and retrieves the lube from the bedside table before passing it over to Nick. "Please," he murmurs, mostly teasing but filled with underlying want.

"That doesn't count."

"Pretty please."

He nudges at Downey with slick fingers until he can slip two of them in and press just the right spot. Downey makes the best noises on lazy Sundays like this, when he knows their neighbors are out doing little old church lady-type things, and Nick wants to hear every single one of them, starting with—

"Jesus, Nick."

Always a favorite, and he smiles to himself around Downey's cock.

"Don't tease me," Downey insists. "Come on. It's Sunday."

"Sundays were made for teasing. They're the only day we even have time."

"Come on, Nick. Please. I'm already wound up like a tightrope."

"Doesn't make sense," Nick insists. "You've got awful metaphors."

"And you've got the most gorgeous cock in the world so give it to me already."

Well, Nick doesn't want to be cruel or anything, and Downey did ask so nicely.

One of his favorite parts about Sundays is this, the part where it's just them and connection and feather-light touches brushing over skin while they lay curled together, one of them inside the other and both of them barely moving. It's like they're both holding their breath to listen to the quiet and the only thing Nick can hear is the soft sound his lips make as he presses them against Downey's neck while soft brown hair tickles his cheek.

It grounds him. All week long he floats, un-tethered, because when he comes home most evenings, Downey isn't there. So he moves through the week without his grounding force to hold him down and usually by Friday he's caught himself flirting with random people—guys or girls, it doesn't matter. He knows he's not going to actually fuck them so actual attraction never plays a role—and he yearns for Downey's calming presence to bring him back down to earth. Which he does, each and every Sunday and any day they both have time during the week.

"Better?" he asks, keeping his voice teasing even though there's nothing funny about what's happening.

"Yeah." Downey sighs, shifting until he's comfortable. "Needed this."

Nick nods and presses a soft kiss to the back of Downey's neck while curling his arm around Downey's waist to stroke the soft jut of his hipbones. "Me, too."

"Please," Downey whispers. "Nick."

Nick gives in easily because he needs it just as badly as Downey does, needs to lose himself inside of his lover until he feels the ground beneath his feet again.

It's slow and deep and it leaves both of them moaning softly and murmuring each other's names. He comes when he hears Downey call him beautiful and Downey fucks his fist until he comes a few minutes later. When Nick finally slips out of him, his come follows, dripping wet and sticky down Downey's thighs.

"We're gonna have to change the sheets," he groans.

"Should've used a condom," Downey mutters.

"Sorry."

"'S okay." Downey shrugs. "Shower?"

"Bath, I think."

"Let me guess. Candles, wine, and music? "

"Maybe."

Downey chuckles. "Sap."

"This is the most I've gotten to see you in a week. Most I've gotten to touch you."

"No, I like it. It's nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like it when you actually want to be intimate."

"I always want to be intimate. Viagra is based on my DNA, you know."

Downey snickers. "Not like that. Intimate-intimate."

"I know what you meant," Nick insists. "We were just turning into pussies and I don't know about you, but I don't so much go for that anymore."

"Me either."

"We're gonna have to fuck again later like manly men," Nick insists, and Downey laughs, a breathtakingly gorgeous sound.

The next time they fuck isn't rough, though. It's in the bathtub with Downey straddling Nick's thighs while Nick strokes his cock and presses kisses to his wet, bubble-slick chest. They couldn't be rough even if they wanted because Nick knows from personal experience there's only so much you can do without proper lube, but to be honest? He doesn't really feel like rough fucking today.

After the bath, Downey works on changing the sheets while Nick reheats the casserole his parents brought when they visited on Friday. By the time he gets back to the bedroom holding two warm plates, the bed is made and Downey is sitting cross-legged while running one finger along the waistband of his pants.

Nick slips back into bed beside him and hands him the food, and they fall silent while they eat. Nick's used to that, though. He likes silences between them now. He never thought he'd like any of this stuff—the living together, the making love, the candles and romantic music playing while they tangled themselves together on crisp, white sheets—but in the three years since they met, something inside him snapped, and fuck, he's glad it did.

Later, Downey will ask about his week and Nick will tell him that his parents said, "Hi," and they're sorry they missed him on Friday, and about the paper he's got due for his political history class. He'll smile and relax and love every minute of having a built-in support system that also gives him really great sex.

After fighting it so hard for so long, Nick's found he rather likes this whole domestic bliss thing.


End file.
